


Love and Allergy

by toyhto



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Also fluff, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, And Jaskier didn't know he'd be into older men, Different take on their first meeting, Geralt liked his life the way it was, M/M, Romance, and a little bit of smut, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22710667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: Geralt thought he didn't have a soulmate. Turns out he was wrong.Fuck.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 59
Kudos: 705
Collections: The Witcher Alternate Universes





	Love and Allergy

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something for [Geraskier Week](https://geraskierweek.tumblr.com/) and also I've never written anything to the soulmate trope AND I think I've never read anything like that either, so this was a great excuse to try that. And it was fun.
> 
> Oh, and the dialogue in the first scene is straight from the episode 2 of the first season of Netflix's show as you will see. And then it goes to AU. And to some smut on the... see for yourself!
> 
> You can say hi to me on my [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)!

For more than thirty years now, Geralt of Rivia had been certain he would never meet his soulmate.  
  
He knew everyone had a soulmate. But he wasn’t exactly surprised that he seemed be an exception to the rule. He was always an exception. At this case, it was probably more of a blessing than a curse.  
  
He had never _asked_ anyone, if witchers were supposed to have soulmates like everyone else. Asking wouldn’t have changed the outcome. And now that he was more than a hundred years old, it seemed safe to assume that if he had a soulmate, if there was someone in this world that was meant for him and him alone, he would have met that person by now.  
  
Until, of course, he met his soulmate.  
  
He was in a tavern in a small village called Upper Posada, and he wasn’t certain why he was there. He had followed a rumor about a quest he didn’t really want, and now he was sitting in the furthest corner of the room, getting ready to leave. Then the bard walked in and something heavy settled in his chest. It was like someone had dropped a weight on his heart. He wondered for a second what it was and then he realized.  
  
_Fuck,_ he thought.  
  
  
**  
  
  
It got worse, when the bard started singing. He wasn’t exactly bad, but he was _annoying_ , and Geralt was very easily annoyed. It wasn’t exactly his fault. He had had enough bullshit for a lifetime and he knew there was going to be more. Sometimes he wondered if he ought to spend the rest of his annoyingly long life alone with his horse Roach, who was the only thing in this world that never annoyed him.  
  
He emptied his pint and wondered if it was the perfect time to execute that plan. He could leave right now. He could spend the rest of his life running away from his soulmate. It couldn’t be much worse than what his life had been like so far.  
  
Then people started throwing food at the bard, who stopped singing and started picking up the food and putting it into his pockets. It was good that the singing stopped. Geralt told himself he would have to leave now, right now, before the bard noticed him. He could still avoid the catastrophe. He could still live the rest of his life alone. He could get away, if only he stood up right now and walked out of the door. Roach was a very fast runner when she wanted to. The bard could never catch him.  
  
_Shit._  
  
The bard was walking to him.  
  
Geralt kept his eyes on the table. Maybe the bard wouldn’t realize Geralt was the bastard’s soulmate if there was no eye contact. Or maybe the bard would realize and would be so disappointed he would turn around and walk away.  
  
It didn’t work.  
  
The bard stopped a few feet away from him. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”  
  
He didn’t even glance at the bard, and still it was like the weight on his heart grew twice as heavy. “I’m here to drink alone,” he said.  
  
“Good, yeah, good,” the bard said. “No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance except –,” and the bard walked closer to him, “- for you.”  
  
Geralt sighed and glanced at the bard.  
  
_Shit._ This was the man he had been waiting for his whole life without knowing it. No wonder his life had been miserable. He was so screwed.  
  
“Come on,” the bard said, watching him as if he really was talking about his performance and not about the fact that they were going to be bound to each other for the rest of their lives, “you don’t want to keep a man with… bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less.”  
  
“They don’t exist,” Geralt said.  
  
“What don’t exist?” the bard asked.  
  
“The creatures in your song.”  
  
“And how would you know?” And then something shifted in the way the bard was looking at Geralt. Geralt swallowed. He could see the moment when the bard knew what Geralt was to him, that he was stuck with Geralt for eternity. The odd thing was that he seemed excited. The poor man was probably insane, which was just Geralt’s luck.  
  
“Oh, fun,” the bard said and licked his lips. Geralt wanted to point out that this wasn’t _fun,_ this was extremely uncomfortable for them both. He didn’t have time, though, because the bard kept on talking. “White hair, big old loner, two very scary-looking swords. I know who you are.”  
  
The weight inside Geralt’s chest was unbearable. He took his swords and his bag and stood up. This soulmate thing, it was bullshit. Well, obviously it was a very real kind of bullshit and he would probably be miserable for the rest of his life if he now walked out of the bard, but that was hardly news to him. He would rather be miserable alone than make the bard miserable as well.  
  
He started walking. The bard followed him, which wasn’t surprising, since Geralt was his soulmate.  
  
“You’re the witcher,” the bard said to his back, “Geralt of Rivia.”  
  
Geralt kept on walking.  
  
“Called it,” the bard said, the annoying bastard.  
  
Geralt swallowed. Of course the bard knew who he was. The bard had to know they were soulmates, had to have the same weight in his chest that was crushing Geralt’s. It wasn’t possible that _Geralt_ knew they were soulmates and the bard just had _no idea._  
  
Then he realized vaguely that someone else was talking to him. He stopped and turned. The bard wasn’t following him, which was odd and also made his heart ache. _Fuck._ But there was a boy talking to him about a devil, and he wanted to tell the lad it couldn’t be the devil, and also he wanted to say that he was going to get away from this place as quickly as he could and wouldn’t take any jobs. But the bard was still in the tavern and Geralt’s heart felt like it had been dipped in glue.  
  
The boy offered him the coin, and then there was the bard again, hovering at the doorway. Geralt tried not to stare at the bard over the boy’s shoulder. He swallowed. He could just go. He could…  
  
He really couldn’t.  
  
He took the coin and walked out.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He had just saddled Roach and was walking her out of the stable, when the bard caught him. If he sighed, it wasn’t from a relief. It was _not._  
  
“Hi,” the bard said, “I feel like maybe I missed something out there. Like, perhaps I should have introduced myself.”  
  
_Please, don’t_ , Geralt thought. He didn’t want to know to whom he was now bound.  
  
“My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz,” the bard said.  
  
_Fuck.  
  
_“But you can call me Jaskier. May I call you Geralt?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said.  
  
“Well, Geralt of Rivia, then,” the bard said, “until we’ve become friends. It won’t take long. I’m very likable. Anyway, where’re we going? Are you going to kill that devil? I can help. Well, I can’t _help_ , but I can watch and make songs about it. Did you know I’m a bard?”  
  
“Listen,” Geralt said through his gritted teeth.  
  
“Jaskier,” the bard added.  
  
Geralt sighed. “Listen, _Jaskier_. I like to travel alone. I’m not looking for an… affair.”  
  
Jaskier looked a little confused. “I didn’t even offer yet. _Shit,_ you’re good. Anyway, do you have trouble breathing?”  
  
Geralt did, in fact, have trouble breathing. He supposed that was because his newly found soulmate was walking right next to him and he wanted so badly to touch the man he couldn’t fucking _breathe._ But he wasn’t going to tell Jaskier that. “No.”  
  
“Because I have,” Jaskier said, rubbing his chest with a grimace on his face. “It’s almost like there’s something stuck in my chest. Like, the weight on my heart. Very unpleasant. Maybe it’s allergy. I’ve never liked hay. Could you maybe walk a little slower?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said but slowed down anyway.  
  
“You’re very lucky that you can breathe,” Jaskier said, taking sharp breaths. “Because this is really… maybe it’s a charm! Maybe the devil has charmed us!”  
  
“It’s not a charm,” Geralt said in a dark voice. If only it had been a charm, there would have been a way to undo it.  
  
“Good,” Jaskier said and stopped. Geralt stopped as well. He didn’t mean to, but his feet refused to walk away from the bard. He wondered vaguely, if he could throw himself on Roach and then somehow bribe her to take him far away from here. Then he realized that the bard was turning blue on the face. “Geralt –“ the bard said, holding his hand out to Geralt, “- of Rivia -,” and he took a breath that sounded like a dying cat, “- I don’t think I can –“  
  
And then his knees gave out.  
  
Geralt rushed forward, grabbed Jaskier’s waist and held him on his feet.  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath. “Oh, god. Oh, _god._ I can breathe again. Oh, I thought I was going to… What kind of allergy _is that?_ ”  
  
“It’s not allergy,” Geralt said. He still had his hands on Jaskier’s waist and everything in him was slowly turning warm. It was like something in him had been flipped, or like there had been a switch, or like he had been cold his whole life and now for the first time he knew the warmth of a hearth. He hated himself and he also hated Jaskier a little, but he also loved Jaskier very much, which was making him hate himself more.  
  
There were so many _emotions._  
  
He _hated_ emotions.  
  
“It’s not?” Jaskier said in a weak voice. He had put his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and was now stroking Geralt’s neck. “What is it then, if not allergy? And why does your touch feel so _good?_ Because trust me, I’m a man of the world. I’ve had some experiences. Most of them not so good but some of them very much so. I have been _touched._ But yours is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Is it…” He blinked at Geralt. Geralt wanted to kiss him and punch him in the face for being so kissable. “Is it because you’re a witcher? Is it because of your mutations?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier frowned. “No? And not allergy? Are you _sure?_ ”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. He wanted to pull his hands away from Jaskier’s waist but he couldn’t gather the strength to do so. “It’s destiny.”  
  
Jaskier grinned. “ _Destiny?_ You don’t believe that.”  
  
“It’s terrible,” Geralt said, scowling. He could just as well tell the idiot, before he did something stupid like kissed the man, or started undressing him here and now, or – bloody hell - told him he loved him. “We’re soulmates.”  
  
Jaskier blinked at him. Then he started laughing. “Soulmates?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. Jaskier patted him on the shoulder and it felt like a tiny and a very pleasant lightning went through his skin. Jaskier clearly felt it too, because the man looked at his own hand and then at Geralt’s shoulder with a surprise on his face. Then he started laughing again.  
  
“Soulmates aren’t _real_ ,” he said. “They’re just a myth people tell their kids so that they wouldn’t sleep with the neighbor’s son. No one’s really believed in that shit for fifty years at least. How would you even get an idea like that into your head?”  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. “Well –“  
  
Jaskier stopped laughing. “Oh, shit. You’re fifty years old?”  
  
“Slightly older,” Geralt said. This was inconvenient. He was talking to the love of his life, after all. He didn’t want Jaskier to think he was _old._  
  
“What?” Jaskier barked. “Are you sixty?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said in a grim voice.  
  
“Seventy?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“ _Eighty?_ ” That was said in a whisper.  
  
“Not really,” Geralt said. Oh gods, he had been young and flexible when he had been eighty years old. Also a little foolish.  
  
Jaskier’s mouth snapped open. “Ninety? You’re joking.”  
  
“I’m a little bit older,” Geralt said, “and I don’t joke.”  
  
“That must be a joke;” Jaskier said, but he didn’t sound certain. “You’re very good with irony. That’s good. I love irony. I’m a very ironic character myself. Well, just tell me. What are you, really? Thirty-two? Thirty-seven?”  
  
Geralt opened his mouth. He wasn’t going to tell Jaskier. “I’m a hundred and something.” _Shit._  
  
“A hundred,” Jaskier said in a flat tone, “and something. Oh, fuck. Now it’s happened. I’m into older men.”  
  
“You aren’t _into_ me,” Geralt said, “I’m your _soulmate._ ”  
  
“Oh, I’m definitely into you,” Jaskier said, pointing a finger at him. “Have you seen yourself? Because your hair is amazing. And your ass, if I may say.”  
  
“You may not,” Geralt said, but he was frustratingly happy that his soulmate liked his ass.  
  
“And your eyes,” Jaskier said. “I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like those before.”  
  
“Yeah,” Geralt said, “that’s because they’re a mutation.”  
  
“And your face looks very smooth for someone who’s a hundred and something years old.”  
  
“Stop talking about my age,” Geralt said.  
  
“What, are you sensible or something?” Jaskier said, and then he patted Geralt on the shoulder and took a step back. “Well, anyway, I guess we’re going to have to find that devil and – _oh, gods,_ I can’t – breathe – Geralt –“  
  
“It’s not allergy,” Geralt said, walked to Jaskier and took him in his arms. He hadn’t meant to. He had meant to maybe touch the idiot lightly on the shoulder or something. But suddenly he was holding Jaskier against his chest and Jaskier was taking deep breaths in his embrace.  
  
“What if I’m allergic to horses?” Jaskier said in a tiny voice. “I _love_ horses. Yours is very beautiful, by the way.”  
  
“Don’t ever touch her,” Geralt said, stroking the back of Jaskier’s neck. “You can touch me, though.”  
  
“What?” Jaskier asked.  
  
“What?” Geralt asked.  
  
“Well, I’m definitely interested if you are,” Jaskier said but he sounded thoughtful. “Can you stop hugging me?”  
  
“Probably not,” Geralt said. Then he thought about it again.  
  
Very slowly, he let go of Jaskier and took a step back.  
  
Jaskier drew in a ragged breath and then another. “ _Shit._ Can you –“  
  
Geralt walked to him and took him in his arms again. Also, this time he realized vaguely that he was hard and pressing his dick against the crook of Jaskier’s thigh. Then he came to think about something else. “How old are you?”  
  
“Eighteen,” Jaskier said. “What, are you having seconds thoughts?”  
  
“I’m not having _any_ thoughts,” Geralt said. Well, it was obvious that he could do nothing about his dick now. And Jaskier didn’t seem to mind too much. But then again… “You’re too young.”  
  
“Well, just wait for eighty years and I’ll be as old as you are now,” Jaskier said in a dry voice. “Do you think you can wait that long?”  
  
Geralt bit his lip.  
  
“Okay,” Jaskier said and pushed his hands under Geralt’s shirt. Geralt flinched. And then he sighed. And then he enjoyed the warmth that spread through his whole body from the touch of Jaskier’s hands on his bare skin. “I’m pretty sure that it _is_ allergy, but it seems that I’m allergic to everything that isn’t you. So, maybe you could tell me a little more about this ridiculous soulmate thing. How do you know it’s me? There’s no sign on my forehead or anything, is there?”  
  
“Of course not,” Geralt said. “I can feel it. It’s like there’s this weight on your heart. I felt it the second I saw you.” He opened his mouth, hoping he wouldn’t sound upset. “Didn’t you feel it when you saw me?” Well, he sounded upset.  
  
“Actually,” Jaskier said, “yeah. I did. But I thought it was the usual kind of weight, you know, when you’ve been singing your song and the good people start throwing food at you.”  
  
“I definitely don’t know.” Geralt bit his lip. “So, you felt it?”  
  
“I also got a boner,” Jaskier said, “but I thought that was just because you’re so hot.”  
  
Geralt realized he was smiling. _Fucking hell._ “You think I’m hot?”  
  
“Don’t you think that I’m hot?” Jaskier asked, smiling wryly.  
  
Geralt opened his mouth and then closed it again.  
  
Jaskier looked shocked. He wriggled away from Geralt’s embrace and pushed him at the chest, only then he grabbed Geralt’s hand right after, because he had trouble breathing again. Geralt entangled their fingers together and tried to find a polite way to tell Jaskier that he thought the bard was… that the bard was very… that the bard wasn’t at all… that the bard _really_ was…  
  
“You are…” he started and ran out of words. He cleared his throat. “I want to undress you.”  
  
“You want to undress me?”  
  
“Yes,” he said. “Can I?”  
  
“Are you going to do something else as well?” Jaskier asked, putting his hand on Geralt’s chest. “ _Fuck._ You’re so fit. Do you exercise or something?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said, “I’m a mutant. What was your first question?” He was a bit distracted, because Jaskier was playing with his chest hair now.  
  
“I asked if you’re going to do something else as well, once you’ve finished undressing me. Because if you just want to look at me naked, I must say, I’m very into that generally, but at the moment I have this very specific desire about you. I want to kiss you. And then I want to have you in me.”  
  
“No, _I_ want to have _you_ in _me_ ,” Geralt said. “But you’re _eighteen._ ”  
  
“Oh, bloody hell,” Jaskier said, “I’m not a kid,” and then he grabbed Geralt’s dick through the layers of his clothing. “Oh, _bloody hell_ ,” Jaskier said and watched him with round eyes.  
  
“I’m a mutant,” Geralt said. Apparently now he was holding his hand against the side of Jaskier’s face, his thumb tracing the line of Jaskier’s mouth. With his other hand, he was undoing the laces in Jaskier’s pants. “Can I -?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said. “Go ahead. You’re most welcome to do that.”  
  
“Thank you,” Geralt said and pushed his hand into Jaskier’s pants. Then he remembered Roach was _right there_ and she was _innocent_ and also a horse. He glanced over his shoulder, but luckily Roach had turned her butt to them and was eating grass.  
  
“Are you checking on your horse?” Jaskier asked, pushed his hand into Geralt’s trousers and took Geralt’s dick in his hand. “Am I doing this right?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. He felt like he was going to burst into fire from toes to head. Then a vague thought cut through the mud in his brain. “Wait. Haven’t you done this before?”  
  
“Not to someone else’s dick,” Jaskier said, breathing to his neck. “I’ve only been with ladies. It’s kind of funny, you know, I never considered myself as someone who could really appreciate male beauty. But now I feel like I’m in love with you.”  
  
“No,” Geralt said, “we’re just going to be together for the rest of our lives, nothing more.”  
  
“Well, then I’m going to damn well hope that I’m in love with you,” Jaskier said. He was panting quite hard. “Why does it feel so _good_ , Geralt?”  
  
“That’s because we’re soulmates,” Geralt said. He felt like he was in every fucking love poem at the same time. He felt like he was all the clichés he had always hated. He felt like he would lose his mind, his coin and his horse if Jaskier touched him for long enough. “It’s the chemicals in our brain. They’re trying to make sure we stick together. It’s only natural.”  
  
“Nothing about this is natural,” Jaskier said. “It’s like magic.”  
  
“Magic is natural,” Geralt said. “Where do you think it’s coming from?”  
  
“From space?” Jaskier asked and then moaned loudly. “Oh, oh, _oh –_ “  
  
“Don’t fucking come yet.”  
  
“Remember when I said that I –“ Jaskier took a sharp breath and shivered in Geralt’s hands, “- that I need you – in me?”  
  
“No time for that now,” Geralt said.  
  
“No one’s ever – made love to me – like this,” Jaskier said, “and it’s a – bloody handjob – on the road –“  
  
“I’ll make you come with my mouth later,” Geralt said. “But that’s all you can take, I think. I’m pretty big, you know.”  
  
“Oh, I _know_ ,” Jaskier said, speeding up his hand on Geralt’s dick. “And don’t worry. I’m flexible.”  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Geralt said and then hold onto Jaskier’s shoulders when his knees started trembling. “I need to kiss you.”  
  
“Oh, fuck, yes,” Jaskier said, only his face was buried against Geralt’s throat. He was apparently trying to bite, and it felt like a goldfish nipping at your heel.  
  
“ _Now_ ,” Geralt said, took Jaskier’s chin in between his fingers and made him tilt his head back. God, he was beautiful. He was _everything._  
  
Geralt kissed him on the mouth and he kissed back, and then the boulder on Geralt’s heart got lifted off. And he came. And he kissed Jaskier again. And then he held Jaskier tight against his chest when Jaskier came as well, mumbling something very poetic about Geralt’s dick that Geralt didn’t want to ever remember having heard.  
  
When he came back to his senses, he was sitting on the road. His trousers were unlaced and there was cum in his lap and Jaskier’s cum in his hand and he felt sticky and sweaty and still a little out of breath and like he had finally found his soulmate he hadn’t believed existed. The weight in his chest was gone but he had a vague feeling that he would spend the rest of his life being worried that something bad would happen to Jaskier.  
  
“Geralt?” Jaskier said. He was lying on his back on the road. His dick was out and half of his face was red because he had rubbed it against Geralt’s neck.  
  
“Yes?” Geralt asked. Jaskier was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of things.  
  
Jaskier smiled at him a little hesitantly. “Do you think you could be my boyfriend?”


End file.
